Bruise
by Mnemosyne's Elegy
Summary: When Yato wakes Yukine up crawling in the window, he's sporting a magnificent black eye. Yukine is convinced the idiot teleported into Hiyori's room at an odd hour again and got what he had coming. Yato insists that he ran into a lamppost...or maybe fell down the stairs. Or something like that.


A quiet scraping sound jerked Yukine from his dreams, and he rolled over onto his stomach to blink at the window blearily. Yato was clambering inside in a clumsy tangle of limbs.

"What are you _doing_?" Yukine groaned.

The morning light was still weak and watery and gray, too early for even him to want to be awake. And Yato was lazy enough to sleep until noon if they let him. What in the world was he doing crawling up the walls at this hour?

"Oops, sorry!" Yato slid the window shut and sidled around the edge of the room. He was moving a little stiffly and awkwardly, clearly trying to skirt his way around the shinki despite the cheery note to his voice. "But hey, now that you're up, we can go bother Daikoku for breakfast."

Yukine rolled his eyes. "Or maybe you could stop being so lazy and– Oh my gosh, what happened to your _eye_?"

Yato paused and shifted from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at Yukine. What he was clearly trying to hide was the dark bruise covering his left eye. It looked awful, all purple and black storm clouds and swollen skin.

"Nothing, really," he mumbled.

Yukine was having none of it. "_Yato…_"

The god heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, alright. I was out walking and ran into a lamppost."

Yukine stared. "A lamppost," he repeated.

"Yup. A big ugly one. It came out of nowhere!"

"And what were you doing out _walking_? I have a hard enough time getting you up before noon."

"Oh, you know, couldn't sleep and stuff." Yato inched another step towards the door, but Yukine was not prepared to let such a ridiculous story slide.

"Were you bothering Hiyori again? You know she doesn't like it when you teleport into her room at weird hours. It's no wonder she hit you."

Yato dropped the pathetic child-with-his-hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar act and drew himself up with a scowl. "I wasn't bothering Hiyori!" he said indignantly. "I walked into a lamppost!"

Yukine leveled a flat look at him, not impressed. "Uh-huh. A lamppost with a mean jungle savate."

Yato huffed and flounced out of the room, muttering under his breath. Yukine rolled his eyes and dragged himself out of bed with a sigh. He was awake now, thanks to Yato being an idiot like usual. He pulled on his clothes and thumped down the stairs.

Daikoku was already finishing up breakfast, and Kofuku listened wide-eyed while Yato regaled them with the tale of his heroic battle with the lamppost. Yukine rolled his eyes again and joined them at the table, just managing not to blurt out what he suspected had _actually _happened, which was that Yato had teleported into Hiyori's room at an ungodly hour and received a nasty right hook to the eye in retaliation. If the idiot didn't want to admit it, then fine. Hiyori would be coming by after school let out, so he'd best come up with a better cover story before then.

"Hurry up," Yukine said as Yato flailed his arms around to illustrate his ridiculous story rather than actually eating. "I'm upping your ayakashi quota for waking me up early, so we should get going."

Yato's eyes filled with crocodile tears. "But Yukineee, I'm injured! Let's do something fun instead!"

"Absolutely not. You're lazy enough as it is. Come on."

"Yukineee!" he wailed as Yukine grabbed him by the collar. He winced and made a strangled sort of choking sound. Clutching at the ratty scarf fixed securely around his neck, he scampered after the shinki. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he wheezed. "Let go."

Yukine rolled his eyes yet again but unhooked his fingers from the god's collar. "Stop being such a baby. And why are you wearing that stupid jacket? It's like ninety degrees outside. You're going to roast."

"Because I like it," Yato muttered sulkily. He cleared his throat with a small, grating cough and readjusted his scarf.

"Be careful," Kofuku said as she trailed after them and stopped in the doorway. "It's a dangerous world out there! Be careful of the light posts, Yato-chan!"

"Clumsy fool," Daikoku added in a mutter.

Yukine, still a little bent out of shape about being woken up so early and about Yato being an idiot in general, set a punishing pace. They stalked the streets no matter how vociferously Yato complained, hunting the ayakashi that lurked in the shadows and watched oblivious humans with hungry eyes. Despite all his whining, Yato kept pace instead of pitching a fit and digging in his heels.

Yukine would make a god of fortune out of this lazy lump yet.

And if Yato seemed a little stiff and ginger with his movements, Yukine felt not the slightest ounce of pity. The idiot should have known what he was getting himself into when he started pestering Hiyori. If he really thought he was going to get a free day to laze around as a reward for being a nuisance, he had another thing coming.

"Can we take a break _now_?" Yato whined as he slashed a blade through another ayakashi that disappeared with a screech.

"No."

"But it's lunchtime! And I'm huuungry!"

"And?"

"And aren't you hungry too?"

Yukine hesitated. They had been killing ayakashi nonstop for several long hours now, and he _was _getting a bit tired and hungry. Judging by how downright sluggish Yato's normally graceful moves had become, he was probably feeling it too. And although Yukine was not sympathetic to the whole black eye situation, it wouldn't do to push Yato too far and have to listen to his moaning for the next week and a half.

"Fine," he said. "But first, there's an ayakashi behind you."

Yato turned and twisted his arm at an awkward angle to deflect the lunging ayakashi with the left blade. It was a messy maneuver that only drew the ayakashi up short for a second before it threw itself at him again. He stepped back and lashed out with another unwieldy stroke.

"What is _up _with you?" Yukine said in annoyance. "You're so clumsy."

He was about to take matters into his own hands when a gunshot rent the air with a loud boom and the ayakashi was vaporized without even the chance for a last squeak.

"You again," Bishamon grumbled from behind them. "It's like we can't escape."

"Speak for yourself!" Yato said hotly. "I was doing just fine! Quit stealing my ayakashi and messing up my quota. What are you even doing here?"

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, you were doing _great_. And I was doing my job, you fool. Because unlike you, I have one. There was a vent open a few streets over. It closed up a little while ago, but we've been mopping up the mess."

"I guess that would explain why there have been so many ayakashi roaming around today," Yukine commented.

Yato muttered something unflattering under his breath. "Come on, Yukine. Let's get some food. I'm starving."

"Are you ever _not _starving?" Yukine asked dryly as he materialized by the god's side.

Yato huffed and turned on his heel to stomp past Bishamon, who was fully decked out in her war gear and standing beside Kuraha in lion form. He did not make it far before the goddess let out a low whistle.

"Wow, that's quite a black eye. Someone sure did a number on you. What fights have you been losing this time?"

Yato sniffed. "I'll have you know, I didn't lose any fights. I just fell down the stairs."

Bishamon's eyebrows nearly jumped right up off her forehead. "The stairs?"

"Yeah," he said, grinning a little as he warmed to his theme. "Banged into every step on the way down, too! I'm sore all over. And Yukine is such a _slave driver_. He's been making me work all _day_."

Yukine frowned. "Stairs? This morning you told me that you ran into a lamppost."

Yato paused, his grin fading, and blinked at the shinki in consternation. His brows drew together in bewildered thought. "I did?"

Yukine drew himself up to his full height and scowled. "Yes, you did."

"Oh." Yato frowned for a few more seconds before shrugging and grinning again. "Well, I walked into a lamppost and _then _fell down the stairs!"

Yukine threw his hands into the air. "You literally woke me up climbing through the window! You didn't even use the stairs!"

"Did so! I was going up the stairs first, but then I fell down and was too traumatized to try again so I went through the window!"

Yukine jabbed an angry finger at the god's chest, thoroughly fed up with the lies and dissembling. "No one believes your stupid story. Just admit that you pushed Hiyori too far and she whacked you. Who cares? I'm sure she's over it already."

Yato scowled, genuine irritation flitting across his face. "I already told you, it wasn't Hiyori."

"Well, who _else _would hit you?"

Yato's eyes narrowed dangerously. "_No one_ hit me. I ran into a lamppost."

"Sure, a lamppost with fists. You don't really…" Yukine trailed off as the significance of the question finally caught up to him. Who _would _hit Yato? The god's eyes were much too icy for this to be just some silly misadventure. "Did you meet up with your dad again?"

Yato went stiff as a board. "I haven't been meeting with him."

"I'm not saying you're holding secret war councils or something. When you were wandering outside last night because you couldn't sleep, did you run into him?"

"What I _ran into_," he said through gritted teeth, "was a _lamppost_."

But his voice was sharp and his eyes were hard and that was all the evidence Yukine needed. Yato wouldn't be so up in arms about it if it was just a misunderstanding.

Yukine eyed him in alarm as a murky idea of what might have happened began forming in his mind. "Why are you wearing that stupid jacket when it's so hot outside?"

"I _told _you, I like it. I can wear whatever I want."

"Where else did he hit you?"

"I'm telling you, it was a lamp– Hey!"

Yukine lunged forward and stretched up to yank that stupid ratty scarf off and make a grab for the jacket's zipper. Yato cursed and jerked back, but after a brief and violent scuffle, Yukine managed to hook his fingers in the zipper and yank it down. Yato slammed an iron grip over his hand, but it was too late.

Yukine sucked in a breath and his fingers went slack. The pale skin of Yato's throat was marbled with purple bruising in the distinct shape of handprints. All Yukine could think about was earlier that morning, when he'd tugged on the god's collar so carelessly and ignored his wheezing. And he had to wonder what other bruises were hidden beneath Yato's clothing.

Why would anyone want to hurt someone like that?

"Yato…"

Yato took advantage of the shinki's surprise to tug the zipper back up. Bruising crept out from under his collar, but he snatched his scarf from Yukine's slack fingers and wrapped it snugly around his neck again. The disguise was complete.

"Hands off," he said tightly. "Let's go."

"Why would he try to strangle you?" Yukine croaked.

Yato rolled his eyes. "No one tried to _strangle _me."

Yukine summoned up a halfhearted scowl, but he still felt sick to his stomach. "What, that was the lamppost too?"

Yato clicked his tongue impatiently and turned away. "It's a family affair and none of your business."

"But… I thought we _were _your family," Yukine mumbled in a small voice as he toed at the ground.

Yato turned back, and his eyes softened just a little as he sighed. "Yeah, but you're the nice side. I'd rather you not get mixed up with the crazy pants side of the family."

Yukine didn't crack a smile. "We're _already _mixed up with them."

"And I'm not happy about it."

"How often does he hit you like that? What does–?"

"Oh, calm down. I've had worse. And this isn't really normal for him. He doesn't need fists when he has ayakashi and threats."

"Ayakashi?" Yukine asked in alarm.

"His masked ones? Those have been around forever, since I was a kid. He rarely puts his hands on me, so you can relax. Anyway, it was my fault."

Yukine hated how blasé Yato was about the parts that should be the most horrifying. And whyever he had gone to such lengths to hide his dad's handiwork, it clearly wasn't because he was particularly upset about this transgression in particular. And that only horrified Yukine more. Maybe that bleak acceptance was what set his stomach churning and his heart racing.

"Your fault?" he croaked. "How could that possibly be your fault?"

Yato shrugged. "I was angry and sick of his stupid smile. So I pushed his buttons until he snapped, and he lost control for a second. It was a one-time thing, so stop freaking out."

Yukine did not stop freaking out. Yato had been stuck with his dad for _how _long, exactly? His dad had been hurting him for _how _long?

"And you just _let _him hurt you?" Bishamon asked in disbelief.

Yukine and Yato turned and blinked at her owlishly, having been too caught up in their own drama to remember her at all.

"_Let _him," Yato scoffed. "What am I supposed to do, kill him?"

Bishamon opened her mouth, then closed it again. Yukine tensed. As much as he wished he could strangle Yato's dad himself, he hated Bishamon for trying to kill him even knowing Yato would die.

The goddess cleared her throat. "Well, we could…"

"_You _don't need to do anything," Yato snapped. "It's none of your business. Just…" His voice grew a little quieter, a little more tired, and he looked away. "Just go."

Bishamon opened her mouth and hesitated, but then thought better of it. She nodded once and retreated, crooking her finger at Kuraha and disappearing into the streets.

"Yato, that's not okay," Yukine said.

"It's not a big deal."

"But it _is_! It's not okay for him to hurt you!" He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and realized they were shaking. He was trembling all over and finding it hard to catch his breath, and he wasn't quite sure why this was upsetting him so much more than every other time Yato had gotten hurt, but it _was_. "Family shouldn't hurt each other," he said in a smaller voice.

Yato seemed to deflate, and suddenly his eyes seemed terribly sad. "Yeah," he said softly, but he was watching Yukine like he might break. "In a perfect world."

"We can't just let him–"

"See, this is why I didn't want you to know, because I knew you'd freak out and it's really not a big deal."

"Of course it–"

Yato's voice softened further, and his eyes were gentle in a way that made it look like he was sorry to be explaining the hard truths of the world to an innocent. "He's spent centuries keeping me isolated and threatening anyone I cared about and setting his ayakashi on me and forcing me to kill after I begged him to let me stop. Compared to that… Why would I care about a black eye?"

Yukine opened his mouth, but no words came out. The terrible thing was that it was _true_. Compared to everything else Yato's dad had done, this should be nothing. But it _wasn't_, and the whole thing made Yukine feel icky and anxious and horrified.

"But… I don't understand. Why would anyone want to hurt you?"

Yato snorted, a short-lived smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, people have _lots _of reasons. Just ask the psycho bitch."

"But you're…_you_."

Yato could be annoying and a pain in the neck to deal with sometimes, but he was always trying to make people laugh and would fight for his friends until the end and had always protected Yukine. Whatever his many flaws, he was a good person and had wormed his way into Yukine's heart. Yukine couldn't understand why someone proclaiming to be his family would want to sic ayakashi on him or wrap hands around his throat.

"It's okay," Yato said gently. His smile was sad. "You're okay. I'm not going to let him hurt you like that. And…I would never hurt you like that either, you know that?"

"I'm not worried about me!" Yukine cried, although he was still trembling all over. "I'm worried about _you_!"

"Mhm," Yato hummed, but his eyes were much too knowing.

Another thought hit Yukine like a freight train, cutting his protests short, and his stomach twisted into another knot. "I hit you too, though," he mumbled, half to himself.

Actually, he hit Yato _a lot_, because the god could be awfully annoying. And his first assumption when he saw Yato had a black eye was that Hiyori had whacked him. Between the two of them, why should they be that much different from his dad?

"You know that's not the same thing," Yato said. He was still being so painfully _gentle_, like he was expecting Yukine to crack and was trying to talk him down off a ledge. And on some level Yukine realized that wasn't right, because Yato was the one who had been hurt. "You don't mean to _hurt _me. And he does. He always does."

"I…"

"Come here." Yato stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Yukine, pulling him close. "It's okay. I'm fine, and I won't let anyone hit you, 'kay?"

Yukine wanted to pull away, but instead he fisted trembling hands in Yato's jersey and tried to smother his hyperventilating in the god's chest.

"S-sorry," he stuttered between gasping breaths. "I don't–don't know why…"

He didn't know why this was such a visceral punch to the gut or why his insides were all tied up in knots or why he seemed to be cracking apart at the seams. It was a terrible thing and it deserved his outrage, but Yato was the one being hurt and _he _wasn't shaking himself apart.

"It's okay, kiddo," Yato murmured, positively petting Yukine's hair. "Just breathe. You're okay."

So Yukine focused on his breathing and willed his racing heartbeat to slow, and Yato held him tight until he began pulling himself back together again. Yukine took a few more deep breaths until he was sure he had himself under control again—because Yato was hurt and it wasn't fair to detract from that with some silly panic attack—and then stepped away. Yato let him go, but his face was lined with concern.

"Next time, hit him back or I will," Yukine said, ruthlessly stamping out the quiver in his voice.

One corner of Yato's mouth curled upward. "Well, you're my guidepost."

"Uh-huh, and don't you forget it. I get that he's your lifeline and you need him, but…don't let him walk all over you. You don't deserve that, and I'm going to make you a god of fortune if it's the last thing I do."

Yato eyed him solemnly for a moment and then huffed out a breath that ended in a whine. "Can we at least get lunch first? I'll go on strike if you try to make me kill any more ayakashi without food."

"Can you never be serious?" Yukine grumbled. He cleared his throat and looked away, trying not to stare at the scarf looped around Yato's neck. "Let's get lunch and then you can have the rest of the day off."

"But I haven't met my quota yet," Yato whined as he poked Yukine in the side and started off down the street again.

Yukine trailed along behind him. "Yeah, but…" He eyed the god's long sleeves and thought about how stiffly he'd been moving today. "You're moving like an old man, so."

"Am not!"

"Uh, yeah, you are. At this rate, you're going to get yourself eaten by an ayakashi and I'll have to go through all the effort of replacing you."

"But–"

"Yato!"

They both started in surprise and turned back. Bishamon hurried towards them, weaving through the crowds of unseeing humans with her golden hair trailing behind her and Kuraha loping along at her side.

"You again?" Yato scowled. "I thought I told you–"

"Here." She slowed to a stop in front of them and handed Yato an icepack. He took it automatically and stared at it like he'd never seen a bag of ice before and had no idea what to do with it. Bishamon crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "Your eye already looks awful. Might as well stop the swelling."

Yato stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "Uh…"

"It's not a crime to ask for help, you know," she mumbled to the ground. "Come, Kuraha."

She hopped onto the lion's back and they took off back down the street without a backwards glance, leaving Yato and Yukine to stare after them.

"Who would have thought it?" Yukine said finally.

Yato made a quiet humming sound, but he was staring down at the icepack in his hand with a distant expression, lost in thought. Then he shook his head and tentatively pressed the ice to his bruised eye.

"Let's go," he said quietly.

Yukine bit his lip and eyed the god sidelong as they took off again. Yato stayed quiet and withdrawn while they found a restaurant to eat at. Yukine would have given anything to know what he was thinking while he stared out the window with glassy eyes and rubbed absentmindedly at his throat.

But Yukine left the god to his thoughts, at least until after their meal when there was a fierce argument about whether or not they should continue hunting ayakashi or call it a day. It was strange to have their roles suddenly reversed, but Yukine didn't want to keep pushing Yato while he was hurt and Yato obviously wanted to keep busy to distract Yukine or himself or maybe both. Eventually, they struck a compromise and halved the remaining ayakashi quota for the day.

They didn't talk about the bruises again. They didn't talk much at all aside from what concerned their skirmishes with phantoms. They just threw themselves into the swordplay with all they had, each for their own reasons. Yukine threw his anger at Yato's dad and his concern for his god and the echoes of his fear into each strike. He didn't know what made Yato's strikes more clipped and vicious than usual, and he didn't ask. He felt that he had pried more than enough for one day.

By the time they headed back to Kofuku's, Hiyori was waiting in the kitchen and nibbling on the after-school snacks Daikoku had provided. Her eyes went as big as saucers when they walked in the door.

"What happened to your _eye_?"

Yato heaved a dramatic sigh. "I was walking down the street, minding my own business, and then _bam_! Suddenly, this lamppost jumps out of _nowhere_…"

Yukine eyed him sidelong but didn't contradict his story. Yato had already been pushed far enough this afternoon.

If anyone noticed that Yukine was quieter than usual throughout the evening, Yato's almost frenetic cheer and constant chatter more than compensated. Yukine just wished that Yato's smile reached his eyes.

He was so preoccupied with what he'd learned and what he could possibly do about it that he thought he'd never sleep, but he must have drifted off sometime during the night since he woke with a start while the darkness was still bleeding through the windows. He wasn't sure what had woken him, but propped himself up on his elbow and blinked around blearily.

Yato was still sleeping sprawled across the futon on the other side of the room. His jacket lay in a crumpled heap beside the bed—apparently the oppressive heat had finally become too much for him—and one arm was tossed carelessly across the blankets, shining pale and waxy in the moonlight. Yukine squinted, but he couldn't tell if the dark patches mottling the skin were bruises or just shadows thrown by the dark and lamplight. He briefly considered sneaking over to take a look since Yato would never show him while awake, but decided he should respect the god's privacy and let him hold on to what little of that secret was left.

And maybe he wasn't sure he really wanted to know, anyway.

Yato shifted restlessly, and there was a shadowed crease on his forehead where his brows were drawn together even in sleep.

Yukine swallowed hard and wondered what the god was dreaming of. Did he have nightmares of flying fists and hands around his throat the same way Yukine had nightmares of the dark closing in? Or of even worse things his dad had done to him over the centuries?

Yukine searched Yato's face in the dark, wondering if he'd be able to read the answers there if he just looked hard enough.

Yato shifted again and breathed in. "Wanna see the capypers," he sighed.

Yukine blinked at him for a moment and then let out the breath he'd been holding in a soft _whoosh_. "Bakagami," he whispered in relief.

That was okay, then. The idiot was still dreaming his silly dreams and would probably wake Yukine at an unholy hour sleep-talking up a storm again. And Yukine was glad, because the world could be a harsh place and Yato should at least be able to escape and be happy in his dreams.

He rolled over and pulled the covers back up to his chin, ready to drift off again now that his mind was set at ease.

Behind him, Yato cracked one eye open, smiled tiredly as he pulled his arm back under the covers, and pretended to go back to sleep.


End file.
